Discerning
by Cheloya
Summary: Papa D x Vesca Howell. 30 kisses, theme 21. Public transport's pretty dangerous, but there's nothing like the pungent guy who closes the window.


Disclaimer: D, Vesca and Petshop of Horrors are the property of Matsuri Akino.

A/N: 30 kisses theme 21 – violence; pillage/plunder; extortion. Vesca doesn't believe in single consonants.

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**Discerning**

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"It really is lovely of you to accompany me, Mr University Student," Dee chirped, waving his ticket at their glazed-looking bus driver. Vesca hunched his shoulders against the praise, wearing a not-so-glazed expression of irritation.

"'m not _accompanying_ you," he grumbled, slapping down a few coins as he told the poker-faced man at the wheel his destination. "I've got shit to do in the city, too. Besides, public transport's dangerous." _Especially for little Chinese guys who look like girls and don't know when to shut the fuck up,_ he thought, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. "I'd drive if I could, but..."

"Yes, your poor vehicle. It didn't deserve such a fate," Dee commiserated without a trace of regret in his voice. He selected a window seat close to the door and settled himself gracefully there. Vesca grabbed a hand-bar and made to swing in beside him, glaring down at the slighter man as Dee continued, "...crushed by the weight of a thousand empty soda cans..." He opened his mouth to reply scathingly that he couldn't _afford_ a thousand cans of soda, but the bus jerked away from the kerb and he found himself landing on the seat - and Dee's arm - with rather more force than he had intended to.

He'd have been more pissed if he hadn't startled an "Ouch!" out of the guy. Dee frowned at him, disgruntled, as Vesca retreated back onto his own narrow strip of seating, then swung his hair around over his opposite shoulder, massaging his scalp with one hand. "Do try to be careful, Mr University Student," he chastised. Vesca glared.

"Like it's my fault the bastard pulled out before everyone was seated," he snarled in response, earning a few odd looks from the surrounding passengers. He hunched his shoulders again, tried to cross his legs - failed, due to lack of leg room - and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets instead. Dee smirked. Apparently he thought it was pretty funny when Vesca was mad. Well, hah hah hah, Vesca thought it was pretty funny, the things Dee got angry with, too. Like eating cheeseburgers. He could rant all he wanted; it was never gonna change Vesca's eating habits. Not until he had a job that could support a diet other than fast food, anyway.

He was stirred from his musing by a thick, sour odour - and by Dee leaning subtly into his shoulder, gasping so softly that Vesca was surprised to have heard it at all and raising a long-nailed hand to cover his mouth and nose delicately. A heavy-set man in a sweat-dampened shirt and torn jeans sat down directly in front of them, and closed the window. Ordinarily, Vesca would've agreed with him - it wasn't that hot, and he was all for avoiding traffic fumes. But this guy should never have been let on the damn _bus_, he stunk so bad. No wonder Dee was covering his nose, making those soft little choking noises as he struggled not to inhale. It was even making Vesca feel a little queasy.

He leaned over Dee and opened the window. The guy looked back incredulously, thick, wiry brows drawing together in a scowl. He stuck out his arm and slowly, deliberately, slid the window closed. Vesca felt the muscles in his jaw clench. _What an asshole._ He made to lean past Dee again, had his hand on the window when the sweaty dude's hand shot out and pinned his arm to the wall of the bus.

"Hey!" Vesca tried to yank his arm back, to no avail, and gritted his teeth in an attempt to not just headbutt the guy. "Man, you got on last, you take what you get - that window stays _open_. The rest of us gotta breathe, back here."

Sweaty Guy sneered, ground Vesca's wrist a little harder against the wall; Vesca could feel the edge of a panel digging into his hand. "Plenty of air in the bus, bud," he said. "Just leave the damn thing closed." Dee, half-hidden behind the blond student, cleared his throat, and Vesca suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"How rude," the Asian man commented snittily, still with his hand over his mouth. "It certainly won't hurt you to open the window."

"Ain't gonna hurt to leave it closed either, girlie," Sweaty Guy rumbled, and that was the part where Vesca started wishing he wasn't pretty much pinned directly between the two of them, the part where Dee's eyes narrowed in a way that usually involved fast-bowled crockery and loud, indignant screeching. Vesca felt his skin go a little cold at the thought.

"I am not a 'girlie'. I am certainly not _your_ 'girlie'." He sat up more regally, managing to look intimidating (to Vesca, anyway) despite his lesser height and slender physique. "And I suffer from motion sickness. Remove your hand from Vesca's arm and open the window, before I have you charged with assault."

In his peripheral vision, Vesca could see people edging away. Good for them. He, unfortunately, was still stuck in the middle, and Sweaty Guy had just crushed his wrist harder into the window, smirking after that initial realisatory widening of the eyes. "You wanna see some assault?" He asked mockingly, curling his fist along the top of the seat. "Huh, freak?"

There was silence. There was a crunch. And then Sweaty Guy yanked back the hand that had pinned Vesca's arm to the window in favour of cradling his other arm, which was suddenly excruciatingly painful. Vesca's face was contorted with rage, his right fist still raised in preparation to bring it down in another smash-manoeuvre and crush a few more bones. He sat up straight in his seat again, stubbornly ignoring the ache in his left arm, and narrowed his own ice-blue eyes. "You wanna say that again, buddy?" He reached over and opened the window again, unimpeded by a foreign arm this time. "You'd sure as hell see some assault then."

"Bastard," the sweaty man hissed through his teeth. "Break my fuckin' arm over a window, what the hell's wrong with you, fuckin' fairy _freak_--"

"What's goin' on back there?" The bus driver demanded loudly. Vesca looked up and jerked his thumb at Sweaty Guy.

"This guy was just havin' some trouble with the bell," he said. "It's broken. But this is his stop. Ain't it?" He raised an eyebrow at the guy, who stood and exited the bus, still swearing. The driver gave them all a look of tired-eyed suspicion before shrugging and climbing back into his seat.

It was around this point that Vesca realised Dee was still leaning on his shoulder, and that the rest of the bus was staring at them in a mixture of relief, awe and apprehension. He sat back slowly, ignoring them all. Eventually, he felt the eyes flick away from him. Which didn't help the Dee situation. He glared down at the Chinese man, who smiled merrily and fluttered his eyelashes over those amazing goddamn purple eyes. "My hero," he murmured, amusement evident in his tone. He began to probe Vesca's sore forearm with gentle fingers. The American gave a snort.

"That guy would've broken your goddamn neck, Dee. What'd I tell you about public transport?"

Dee chuckled, still not moving his head from Vesca's shoulder. "What have I to fear, with a bold young thing like you to protect me, Mr University Student?" He huffed a breath against the side of Vesca's neck and the American shifted away uncomfortably, taking back his arm. He'd had enough of other people grabbing at it, today.

"Will you get the hell off me? What's wrong with you?"

"I will not," Dee responded, practically vibrating with suppressed delight. "I have made a discovery."

Vesca scowled. "Yeah? What's that?" He tried to edge away from the other man, but the bus was getting pretty crowded again, and there wasn't really any place to go. Dee's reply was breathy, the words pressed beneath his ear like a string of tiny kisses. They had about the same effect.

"You smell wonderful," Dee whispered. "I believe I prefer to you to fresh air."

Vesca felt himself turning a dull red, felt his heartrate speeding up and knew that Dee, the bastard, would be able to tell at this distance. He tried to speak strongly without clearing his throat, but only partially succeeded. There were some kinds of hoarse breathlessness that were inescapable, no matter the surroundings.

"You'd better not be telling me you wanted the window closed."

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A/N: Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated!


End file.
